


Another One Bites The D***

by Helianthus21



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Author Is A Little Salty, Charlie Bradbury Lives, Crack, Curses, Eileen Leahy Lives, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Kevin Tran Lives, M/M, minor character undeath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 19:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helianthus21/pseuds/Helianthus21
Summary: Everyone who catches Winchester dick dies, it's a well-known fact.R.I.P Cas.





	Another One Bites The D***

**Author's Note:**

> so... this happened. Don't take this too seriously, it's pure crack with a little salt and some gross fluff, that's all it's supposed to be. Numbers are made up, fourth wall breaking is just me using characters to express my salt:P. Not beta-read, all mistakes are mine.

There's a knock on the Bunker door, and Cas answers it.

It seems to be Jody's complete household that greets him, Donna and the girls; plus a skinny looking guy who must be Garth, and Rowena of all people.

“Did Dean send you?”

“We're here to save your ass,” confirms Donna, who has plastered on an encouraging smile that stands in contrast to the sour expressions all around.

“It would be a shame if the last your ass saw was-”

“Alex!” Jody chastises, scandalized.

Cas rolls his eyes. “Dean's being an idiot. I feel fine.” 

“CAS??” None other than Dean's voice traveled up to the doorway. “Cas, I told you not to go anywhere unchapero- Wait, is this the cavalry?” 

“Don't worry, Dean, we got him covered!” promises Donna, and as if on silent command, everyone draws their daggers, guns, flamethrowers, and in Rowena's case, just wiggles with her hand in a dramatic show of purple sparks. 

It's the wrong thing to do, apparently, because Dean panics. “DON'T POINT SHARP THINGS AT HIM, YOU MORONS!” 

Everyone drops their weapons immediately, but the safety on Garth's gun must not have been on anymore, and upon hitting the ground, it shoots out one bullet which lands, as if perfectly aimed, in Cas' stomach. 

For a long second after the shot rings through the Bunker, everything is silent. Then everyone breaks out in a flurry of frenzied activity, scrambling to get to Cas. Dean stomps up the stairs, Alex and Patience pull out a first aid box, Garth lets out a litany of “I'm sorry, oh god, I'm sorry, oh god,” and Jody and Donna set out to secure the scene of accident.

Cas, meanwhile, is standing there, feeling little more than a tickle in the area of his stomach, and wondering if being surrounded by fucking idiots might be a just punishment for all the sins he's committed in his life. If so, he'd rather rot in hell if Chuck asked him, but of course he never would. 

Once Dean reaches the top of the stairs, he puts his arms around Cas' back as if Cas was about to faint any second now, muttering about how he's “gonna be fine”, and that “it's just a scratch” and his concern would be kind of sweet were it not so utterly misplaced.

“Dean, it really is just a scratch,” says Cas. “A regular gun shot can't kill me, see? It's already healing.” 

Dean stops short. “They're not angel killing bullets?” He demands, head turned to Garth now.

Said hunter-slash-werewolf looks like a deer in headlights who just realized what he thought was a car racing towards it had in fact been the moon all along. “No,” he says, exhaling a heavy breath. “No, I didn't even know there's such a thing as angel killing bullets! Phew, Cas, I'm so glad you're healing. We really both escaped death there, huh, because for a minute there I thought for sure, 'Dean's gonna kill me for this', ha ha!” 

Dean, who still looks a little pale (though he blames it on the harsh Bunker lighting), rubs a hand up and down Cas' back, which is nice, and when Cas makes to descend the stairs again to welcome their guests into their humble abode, insists on carrying Cas down bridle-style, which is less nice and more, as they say, 'overkill'. 

Arriving at the bottom, Dean lets him down, and they all make their way over to the War Room tables where Sam and Charlie are hunched over a chaotic arrangement of laptops and books. Even the loud gun shot seems not to have roused them from concentration. Kevin has joined them with a cup of coffee, though he appears not to be involved in their work at all.

“So,” starts Claire, once they've all assembled in varying positions around the tables. “You and Cas hooked up, huh.” And then Claire punches Dean on the arm, hard.

“Ow!” Dean protests, feeling bullied by a kid half his age. 

“You asshat! I told you to look after him, not impale him with your Michael lance!” 

(Cas decides he doesn't like her tone; that Dean's sex life involves Cas as of late should be reason to celebrate, in Cas' book. No one else seems to share that view, however, since they're all here to prevent the best night of Cas' life from happening again.)

“I know, okay?” defends Dean, looking positively miserable. “I'm sorry! But in my defense, I've held myself back for almost ten years now, and I only have so much self-control. Plus, Cas is a really distracting kisser.” And he gets that dreamy look in his eyes that tells Cas he's reminiscing about last night. Cas doesn't care to hide the smugness he feels in the face of that. “ _Really_ distracting. _You_ try stopping once he does this thing with the-”

“OKAY!” yells Sam, no doubt on a mission to preserve his own sanity. “How about we split into groups to watch out for Cas and prevent this,” he waves his hand around in incomprehensible gestures. “Curse or whatever from killing him.”

But Cas' mind is still stuck on what Dean said, a specific sentence that has the wheels in his head turning. “Wait a minute,” he says. “Is _that_ the reason why this,” Cas gestures between himself and Dean, “has never happened until yesterday?”

The stricken look on Dean's face is enough answer. “I just didn't want to kill you!” Dean whines. “So sue me.”

A myriad of moments flashes before Cas' eyes right then. All those times he and Dean had looked at each other, when their gazes dropped to the other's lips; all of Dean's prayers after the apocalypse, in purgatory; the pull he felt whenever he was in Dean's vicinity, the pull he still feels; the push of one of them retreating into their respective shell of longing...

All of that.

_Because of this?_

They could've made out in the backyard of the den of iniquity. In Dean's car in Rexford. Hell, against a tree in fucking _Purgatory_.

If Dean weren't in the ridiculous belief that sleeping with a Winchester was ultimately fatal. 

Mourning all those sweet, sweet scenarios-that-never-happened, Cas lets out an exaggerated, drawn-out, long-suffering groan. 

“Dean, there is no 'curse'. I've died regardless of whether your penis has come anywhere near me, several times in fact!” he dares to remind Dean. 

“But you've always come back from it so far!” points out Charlie. 

“Oh god,” Dean gasps, and he looks like he's gonna be sick very soon. “Maybe my dick is what finally does you in permanently.”

“This is absurd!” Cas laments. “There's a technologically gifted hacker in this room, a former prophet of the lord, two sheriffs, a powerful witch, a former student of an American elite university, as well as the best man I've ever met and yet I am here, doomed to listen to all this bullshit.”

Claire throws her hands up. “Hey, what are we, chopped liver?” And she gestures to herself and the other two young women in her company that Cas doesn't yet know very well.

“You,” Cas says. “Shouldn't even be here. I'm not any of your concerns, I'm sorry for wasting your time, Claire, but you can all go now.” Maybe if Cas can corner Dean alone in his bedroom, a repetition of last night's events doesn't have to be completely out of the cards yet.  
Unfortunately for him, his group of friends is, in fact, very intellectually and strategically gifted despite their collective momentary lapse in sanity, and therefore said gifted minds are conspiring against him. 

So Sam, casually ignoring any and all of Cas' complaints, explains: “Charlie and I have established a schedule for the teams that keep an eye on Cas. Since most of us are human and we need to eat and sleep, we should take turns.” 

“There's a special task force just to keep Cas from seducing Dean because turns out Cas can be a horny bastard if he puts his mind to it and Dean is a weak, weak man.” Charlie adds helpfully, effectively upsetting Cas’ plans who slumps into his chair at the realization.

Dean throws her a thankful look that Charlie acknowledges with a nod. Cas really misses earth as it was before the homo sapiens sapiens evolved from the species of the primates. The pterodactyls _had_ been great conversationalists, and he'd favor their company at this very moment.

“Alright, I'll play,” Cas concedes. “If there really was such a 'curse', then how, pray tell, is Lisa Braeden still alive?”

“Because she doesn't even remember me,” argues Dean, regret lacing his voice. 

Cas regrets bringing it up, but the future of their epic romance is at stake. “Cassie Robinson?”

“Hmm,” Rowena hums. “Well, are we certain she's still alive?” she wonders aloud, and Dean blanches. Cas moves to comfort Dean, tell him that he's sure she is and if not, there would be no reason for Dean to blame himself, but Garth blocks his attempt to approach Dean. Cas glares at the werewolf.

“The statistics speak for a curse, I'm sorry Cas.” Charlie opens a spreadsheet on her laptop that lists a big number of the Winchester's past sexual and/or romantic conquests, and the vast majority of names are highlighted in red. “Red means...” Charlie draws a finger across her neck to signify death. 

“With the oh so thrilling book series 'The Winchester Gospels' as source, I've made a statistic including any of Sam and Dean's casualties as a whole, see.” Charlie worries her lip, careful to phrase her observations in a way that doesn't add to Sam and Dean's feelings of guilt too much. She opens a file on another tablet and hands it to Cas. “89% of victims that died in relation to Winchester activities, directly or indirectly, were in a romantic or sexual relationship with either Sam or Dean, or both.”

Cas raises his brow. “Both?”

Sam and Dean look at each other, confused for a minute, but then something seems to click. “Annie,” they both say, and then they simultaneously look down at the ground, rubbing at their necks.

Cas tilts his head, wanting to inquire more, but Charlie continues.

“There are deviations, of course, victims that were just not attracted to men for example and therefore not prone to Sam or Dean's _irresistible_ charms – hey, kinda like Kevin and me! Who are still alive of course, because the author of this story is not a complete bozo.” Kevin looks up from his coffee for a second to meet Charlie's raised hand in a high-five. “But you gotta admit, Cas. There's a pattern.” 

“Well, even if such a curse existed and it befell whoever enters an intimate relationship with either Sam or Dean... I'm not exactly defenseless. I assure you, I don't need a bodyguard, much less several.” 

What happens next, he could not have possibly foreseen and should in no way be held against him. 

He sets the tablet back on the table and leans back, his hand accidentally pushing over a vase with holy oil that pours on the ground around Cas' feet. The vase, unbroken by its fall upon the ground, rolls farther back towards a book shelf where it topples the position of a candle stick, prompting it to fall down to join the holy oil. And from one second to the next, a fire breaks out. 

Wide-eyed and accompanied by at least ten chorused screams of alarm, Cas throws himself to the side. In the blink of an eye, the whole puddle of holy oil has caught fire right at the place where Cas had been standing mere seconds ago. He stares into the heat, willing his heart to slow its rapid beating despite the image of the dancing flames that burns itself into his retinas. 

“Cas,” Dean rasps, eyes trained on the area of his legs. Following his gaze, Cas absently notices that his pant leg is singed at the seams, and through the charred fabric it becomes evident that his skin hasn't gone unscathed by the ordeal either. 

Strangely, it is the sight of his scorched flesh that breaks Cas out of his stupor. It's just flesh. It will heal. No real harm done.

So Cas straightens and fumbles at his crooked tie to restore the relative neatness of his appearance. The fact that the tie is put on backwards doesn't stop him. 

“Well,” says Jody, who sets to quench the little fire and wipe up the mess with the joint effort of Sam and Charlie. “Maybe you need to reconsider that, Castiel.”

Cas just huffs. “Please. My existence has been full of life-endangering situations before any of you were even so much as a thought in my Father's mind. This,” he gestures from the dying fire on the floor to his damaged skin, “has nothing to do with Dean's penis.”

“Can you please stop saying 'Dean's penis',” begs Sam.

“I would, if you'd stop _depriving_ me of it.” 

“I need more coffee for this,” murmurs Kevin, who appears generally unimpressed with everything.

As Dean ushers Alex over to take a look at Cas' legs, Sam and Charlie divide everyone into their stupid groups. Although Alex can't do much more than cool the area of the burn with cold water and put gauze on it, Cas is grateful for the treatment. Holy fire is one of the more painful angel-harming weapons, and the wound will likely take a while to heal.

“Does it hurt, baby?” Dean asks, probably not even noticing the new pet name that just rolled off his tongue. For a moment, Cas forgets to be annoyed with him and revels in the attention Dean gives him so generously. 

“It does,” he says, mouth turning downward. “You know, Dean, I heard a kiss from an attractive human can cure even the most severe wounds.”

Dean blinks, but recovers quickly with a cheeky grin and a wink he shoots Cas' way. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm.”

“Let's test that theory,” intercedes Donna, who skips between Dean and Cas and sneaks a little peck on Cas' cheek. “There. That should do it, dontcha think?” 

Cas frowns at her, betrayed.

But before he can say anything else, Charlie pipes up. “Uh, hey Scooby Gang? Sorry to interrupt but there's kind of thing going on over in Wichita,” she holds up her phone for everyone to see, which shows some kind of red alert that Cas can't make sense of. _Technology_ , he judges. 

“No monster activity as far as I can tell, but there's a warding that just blinked up in my system? My app hasn't notified me of any kind of supernatural warding in that area until now, so it might be worth looking into, since it seems to be, you know, getting weaker and all.” With a shudder, she adds, “Maybe it's holding some eldritch monster inside that's trying to escape after a thousand years of imprisonment. And it feeds on human flesh!”

“Colorful,” comments Kevin.

Charlie grins, pleased. “Thanks, I try.”

Flexing his hand to assure himself of the presence of his angel blade against his Grace, Cas prepares himself for this hunt, when Dean's hand on his chest stops him in his tracks. 

“Whoa there, cowboy, where do you think you're going?”

Cas frowns. “To Wichita.”

But Dean shakes his head firmly. “Fat chance! You're not going in your condition, it's way too dangerous.”

Cas sighs. “Dean, it's just a burn, I'm okay to fight.”

“Burn?” says Dean. “I'm talking about your _condition_.”

His whole body joining in on his eye-roll, Cas says, “For the last time, Dean, cursed objects have and will never be something as absurd as a human's genitals.”

“Absurd?” Dean echoes, wounded. “Your _angel blade_ is absurd!”

Cas looks down at his shoes, taken aback. “You don't have to be mean.”

An awkward cough puts an early end to their erupting argument. “How about I take the girls, and Team Research takes the first Cas shift?” suggests Jody.

That seems to not meet disagreement from anyone, and since no one listens to Cas' opinion these days anyway, it shall be what they're gonna do. So Jody, Donna, Claire and the other three girls hit the road to take on a potential ancient, powerful monster while Cas has to sit on his hands in the Bunker, wrapped in bubble wrap if Dean has any say in the matter.

Rowena excuses herself to catch up on her “beauty sleep” in one of the guest rooms, and Garth seeks out some privacy in the kitchen for a phone call with his wife. 

Team Research, as it turns out, consists of Sam, Charlie, Dean and a Kevin, the latter of whom insists he wants nothing to do with any of their “Winchester bullshit”. 

“Good to have you here, Sammy,” says Dean once they're alone, and pats Sam's shoulder in brotherly affection. “'Cuz I'd be worried about being stuck here with Cas at such close quarters when he's so desperate to kill himself –”

“If that is what 'the adolescents' are calling it these days,” cuts in Cas, dryly.

“– But you're the best mood killer, so we're good.”

Sam responds with what Dean might call a 'classic bitch face'. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“If it's any consolation, Sam,” comments Cas. “you're not a 'mood killer' from my perspective.” At Deans scandalized look, he adds, “What? Your brother is aesthetically pleasing.”

Cas frowns. Clearly, complimenting the physique of your lover’s brother crosses some kind of social boundaries he had not previously been aware of. He takes a mental note of it, but decides that avoiding a repeat offense isn’t a priority since the good (making Sam feel good about his body image) outweighs the bad (annoying Dean) in this case. Maybe Cas’ judgment stems from his frustration towards Dean’s unwillingness to resume the new intimacy of their developing relationship, however, and he is doing wrong by Dean.  
But his frustration begs to be acknowledged and he resolves to stew in it a while longer. 

He chances a glance at Dean, tracing the broadness of his shoulders with his eyes, the sharpness of his jawline, the inviting curve of his upper lip, and he savors the memory of how it felt to have those very same lips moving against his own.  
Having had a taste of it, Cas finds a new meaning in physical closeness. It’s comforting and exhilarating at the same time, and like Icarus to his hybris, he is already addicted. He could make himself a home in Dean’s arms, if Dean wasn’t under the misguided impression that he was the sun. Bright and shining and so very, very _hot_ ….

He cuts off this train of thought before it affects him in inappropriate ways. Instead, he stands up and rummages around the room to have at least something to do. Since he can’t leave the room without throwing his friends in a panic, he’ll make do with evading Dean’s hovering and Sam’s worried glances and Charlie’s strategic positioning of the library furniture into an arrangement that’s supposed to be helpful in warding off threats towards him, though Cas fails to see the how in that.

“Be careful,” Dean warns again, when Cas moves to pick up a random book from a random shelf, and he rolls his eyes so hard that his wing-eyes feel the echo of it in the ether. 

“How on earth would a simple book harm me, it’s just an assimilation of-” 

And he doesn’t get any further than that. Because once his fingers touch the book’s spine, his whole body goes stiff, and he collapses onto the ground like a wooden plank.  
He can’t move anything but his eyes in their sockets and this immobility is so terrifying, it immediately goes on the list of his most traumatizing phobias. 

For a frightening moment, the idea of him dying because of some curse lying on the Winchesters' nether regions becomes an actual possibility to him, and in a sudden internal burst of theatrics, he considers signaling a quick I-love-you to Dean and to ask him to tell Claire, _I'm sorry and I'm proud of the woman she's become_. 

But he recovers his senses quickly.

“Cas!”

Dean’s by his side in an instant, checking for injuries with the air of someone who thinks having watched all those episodes of Dr. Sexy automatically gives him the qualifications of a health-care professional. While Dean frets over him, Sam and Charlie check the book carefully, only daring to touch it after producing some gloves for safety.

“There’s no title on this book. Just a picture of a spindle,” informs Charlie. Her eyes widen. “A spindle! Ooh! Do you think this has anything to do with the fairytale?”

Sam raises his brows in consideration. “Sleeping Beauty?” he huffs. “Didn't think Cas was the type.”

“Hey, he's plenty beautiful!” Dean defends his honor.

Cas might appreciate their banter more if he weren’t stuck in a paralysis on the floor. Although Dean thought to tuck a soft pillow under his head, which is needless but very thoughtful of him and if it could, Cas’ heart would swell at the notion. 

“What do we do?” asks Sam, sounding helpless.

Charlie blows up her cheeks, excitement only seeming to increase. “Only a true love’s kiss can awake him. Or, er, give him back control over his nervous system, I guess?” She hits Dean on the clothed arm with the book. “Go kiss him Dean!” 

“Ow!” Dean complains, rubbing at his arm. From his limited perspective, Cas can’t quite tell, but he’d wager that’s a hint of red spreading across Dean’s neck and cheeks. “Geez, woman! This won’t work, remember? I’m Cas’ demise, not his salvation, did you catch on to anything we said? That’s why I called everyone here, remember?”

“I’m not an idiot, dude, don’t disrespect your queen like that!” Charlie puts her hands on her hips, and it’s curious how she can make herself look taller than Dean despite her actual physical height. “But this is our best shot right now – at least it’s something we can do!”

“Maybe,” Sam pipes up between their quarrel. “Uh. The curses are kind of contradictory, right? The first one, Cas dies if he gets too close to Dean-”

(Once again, Cas mourns his ability to roll his eyes.)

“But for the second one, Dean is basically the _cure_. Maybe, if two curses with such opposite meanings overlap,” muses Sam, “one neutralizes the other, and… and they go-”

“Poof,” provides Charlie.

“Poof,” Sam agrees.

Cas would like to yell at them that the first curse doesn't exist but his vocal folds won’t cooperate. If Dean’s kiss saves Cas, then it has nothing to do with a metaphorical cloud hanging over Dean’s head, and everything to do with the love that pulses in his heart. _If_ Dean’s kiss saves him. 

Suddenly, that’s a big If.

Dean seems to agree, because once all eyes land on him with an expectation that’s almost palpable, his Adam’s apple bops and he lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck in an awkward motion. “Uhh…” He plasters on a grin that might fool strangers but certainly not anyone in this room. 

_You don’t have to_ , Cas would like to say. 

Because it's starting to feel like Dean needs to prove something, and this is definitely not how this should go. This thing between them should be slow and sweet and _good_ , not forced and uncomfortable. 

_It’s okay_ , Cas wants to tell him. 

“Fuck,” Dean swears under his breath. “Okay, here goes…” He leans down – slowly, with an air of reverence that’s reminiscent of the first time they kissed – and he seals their lips together lightly. 

And it feels like an apology. 

Furrowing his brow, Cas attempts to figure out what causes Dean’s hesitancy, if it’s regret or doubt or something else.. when he realizes that he just furrowed his brow and that’s his eyelids fluttering in reverberation of the pleasant dizziness that comes with Dean’s kiss. Which means he has regained control over his nerves and muscles which means that – 

“It worked!” announces Charlie, quietly, as though she doesn’t want to disrupt the solemnity of the moment.

Dean’s eyes don’t leave Cas, and there’s a dazed sort of look in them, like he can’t quite believe what they’re seeing. “Yeah,” he breathes. “It did.” 

He sounds so… amazed.

Sitting up, Cas chases Dean’s contact before he can withdraw, clasps his hand between his own and clutches it against his chest. “Dean,” he says, voice matching Dean’s low tone. 

“Don’t you see it now? You _saved me_.”

You are not my damnation.

You are my salvation.

It doesn’t need to be said through words. Judging by the hopeful gleam in his eyes, realization seems to be dawning on Dean. 

“I only ever needed to have…,” A soft smile blooms on Dean’s face as he continues, “Faith.”

Cas squeezes the hand he’s still holding, and smiles back at Dean. 

Because the universe is conspiring against Castiel and his newfound pursuit of a fulfilled love life, however, the sweet moment is short-lived. A cleared throat reminds them of the two other people in the room, and Dean and Cas draw apart.

“Hate to interrupt but… we got a text from our little group of wayward gals,” Charlie regretfully informs them, waving her phone through the air for emphasis. “They say they’ve found something ‘very interesting’, and they thought we should come see it.”

Cas feels his own annoyance represented in the full-body eye roll Dean performs at that. “Can’t they deal with it alone? Kinda in the middle of somethin’ here.” And he winks at Cas in a way that recovers his hope for a shared objective which leads preferably onto a flat surface in Dean’s room.

“We should really go,” insists Sam, who apparently needs a fresh reminder of who it was exactly that dragged him out of perdition, and that getting into his good graces wouldn't hurt. 

Sam's gaze is locked on the screen of his own phone, though. “This seems like a big deal.”

So now they’re on their way to Wichita. 

In a cramped car, with two chaperones. 

Sitting and watching grass grow on earth for a few billion years suddenly doesn’t compare to the impatience that rises inside Cas at the prospect of not feeling Dean’s naked, heated skin against his’ for several more hours.

His patience is being tested, yes, but Cas must remind himself that a delay is better than a definite _Never_. 

His confrontation with the cursed spindle book has had it’s perks that way, he muses. Because now Dean has abandoned any and all qualms that made him keep his distance. In fact, he has deliberately chosen to sit in the back seat beside Castiel while Sam drives the Impala. 

They’re trading furtive glances between them, like it’s still a novelty to be sure of the goodness of their bond, the blessing, and it pleases Cas greatly when he notes a certain shyness in Dean’s smiles that’s slowly but surely becoming familiar to him. 

This is how he had been last night, too. After he’d shouted his lungs out about how _reckless_ Cas was and how _infuriating_ and how very much _in love_ Dean was with him. The last part had come out by accident, and it had surprised both of them. 

Dean had become quiet instantly, ready to withdraw. The moment of silence had stretched endlessly. That’s how it had felt at least, even though Cas knows it isn’t logically possible for time on Earth to move in any other way than linear, at least without supernatural interference – but awkwardness can apparently reshape entire concepts of physics.  
Once Cas had regained his wit, he’d wasted no time. With big strides he’d bridged the gap between them and aligned their bodies, pressed all up in Dean's personal space for a slow but sure symphony of lips and tongues. 

Kissing Dean had been… a revelation.

Absently (because his consciousness is preoccupied with ogling Dean), he overhears the conversation going on in the front seat.

“Weird that we've never come across that cursed book in all the time we've lived in the Bunker.”

“Yeah, weird,” agrees Charlie. “Eh, I'm sure it's gonna come up in a later episode. Date, I mean. At a later date.”

They drive on.

***

The place with mysterious warding turns out to be an abandoned warehouse. 

Claire and the Donna are waiting for them in front of the entrance, and they wave at them with their weapons. “Took you long enough,” Claire comments with a cheekiness that Dean often attributes to the impertinence of ‘this goddamn generation’. 

Before Dean can protest against the implied insult to his Baby, Cas replies, “Sam drove very carefully,” which he thinks defends the car’s virtue enough without hurting Sam’s feelings at the same time. 

“Well, come on in then, fellas, don’t be shy,” Donna invites. She pauses with the hand on the door handle. “I’d tell you to sit down because this here is…,” she makes a vague gesture, “ _Sheesh_! But we're short of wheelchairs I'm afraid, and I'm not gonna carry you, so better toughen up!” 

“Don’t put us on the rack, D-Train,” says Charlie. 

Donna's eyes are wide, and as secretive as she tries to be, Cas gauges the pending confrontation largely nonthreatening. Whatever's in there will likely already be dealt with and won't require high defense precautions, so he lowers his blade – but doesn't let go of it completely. 

She opens the door and they go through it.

What greets them, Cas really would have never expected. 

In all his time on Earth alongside the Winchesters, he has never seen so many living women in one room. They are not exclusively women. But they present a majority that is worth taking note of.

Jody and the rest of the hunters they initially sent out here are assembled at the side of the great hall. “Surprise!” They yell in unison, big grins flashing off each their faces. 

Castiel glances at Sam and Dean, who appear to be so perplexed that they are unable to close their mouths. 

“I...,” Sam rasps out. “I thought you were dead. All of you.”

One of the women steps forward and speaks, her words accompanied by fluent sign language, “The rumors about my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

A shaky laugh escapes Sam at that, and before Cas can blink, he's got the woman wrapped in a crushing hug. 

“Eileen,” Dean says, if for Castiel's sake or to comprehend the reality of the situation, Cas can't tell. “And... Sarah Blake?”

Another woman has joined the hugging pair, and when Sam notes her presence, he throws himself into another tearful hug.

“It's okay, Sam,” murmurs the woman who must be Sarah, and Cas observes that Eileen never breaks contact with either of them. Her head rests against Sam's shoulder and a hand is sneaking up Sarah's arm in a way that seems intimate, as though they're trading such affections all the time. 

Dean's eyes are suspiciously wet, and his voice sounds laden with raw emotion as he asks, “How are you alive? Who-”

“It wasn't a resurrection,” comes the explanation from a voice Castiel had hoped to never hear again. “Because we were never dead in the first place.”

None other than Crowley steps around the pile of hugging humans and into the metaphorical spotlight, running a hand over his chest and the impeccably tailored black suit covering it. “Excuse my impoliteness: Hello, boys.”

“Crowley,” Cas growls. “What are you doing here?”

“The question is,” Crowley muses. “What are _you_ doing _over there_?”

When Cas tilts his head and makes to demand for a clarification, Jody interrupts. “Okay, guys, how about we start from the beginning.” She takes a deep breath as if to steel herself for the conversation that follows.

“When we got here, the warding was already down, and the monster ganked,” she reports, gesturing towards the back where a dark figure lies prone in a way that Castiel can't make out his face.

“What happened to him?” Dean wants to know, and this time it's not Jody who answers.

“Oh. We killed him. He was an asshole,” comments Sarah.

“He was hard to kill, though,” says Eileen, frowning at the white male, heterosexual corpse on the ground. “He kept coming back for no evident reason.”

“Nothing we couldn't take on, though,” says another woman who must be one of Sam's acquaintances because he identifies her as 'Alicia'. (He stutters out an unnecessary and quite incomprehensible explanation involving post-hunt adrenaline and one-night-stands). “Thankfully, we had the help of an, uh. King of Hell?”

“That's right, darling,” affirms Crowley, the usual overly proud smirk on his face that Cas wants to knock right off.

“And we're not so bad on our own,” points out Eileen, whirling a blade around in her hand in a very convincing display of power.

Jody resumes with her report. “This bad boy here has made it his life mission to kidnap every, well,” she coughs awkwardly but pulls through, “every _conquest_ you two ever made.” She points to Sam and Dean who blink in bewilderment.

“Don't ask me why. I don't think anyone actually understood his motives. He must've been obsessed with you two though, that's for sure,” comments Alicia. 

“Anyway, what these guys here accomplished,” and here Jody gestures at the whole group of presumed dead friends and acquaintances. “is wearing down the warding that kept them inside these four walls as defenseless prisoners until it stopped working and they could finally fight back. They got rid of him before we even got here. At least we arrived soon enough to get wind of the whole situation before they could scatter in all directions.”

“Would'a been a shame,” a man comments, stepping through the crowd and Cas frowns at the sight. He hadn't noticed him until now. “'Cuz I misplaced your phone number, brother. Wouldn't'a got a single clue how to find ya.” 

“Benny?” The name leaves Dean's mouth like a plea. Cas looks at him. From all the losses Dean had to suffer, he hadn't realized the disappearance of the vampire had hit him this hard. 

The two meet in a warm embrace, and at the brightness of Dean's smile, Cas suppresses the little pinprick feeling in his chest that makes him wonder what it means that Benny of all people is among this group. 

Hugs are exchanged all around, and once Cas regains Dean's attention, he decides to be 'that little shit', but Dean beats him to it, “Let me guess, you're itching to deal out your 'I told you so'.”

“Yes,” Cas smiles, pleased. He leans forward so that their noses almost brush to get a close-up of Dean's eye-roll when he says, “I told you so. Your beautiful, welcoming heart is not toxic. On the contrary, it is giving and considerate and good ”

“Okay, you sap.” Dean tries to downplay Cas' admiration but doesn't let his bashfulness stop him from returning the affection with a small kiss that he presses to the back of Cas' hand. 

Somewhere at their periphery, Eileen responds to Sam's laments about how much time they've wasted with, “I'm actually happy all this happened.” 

Dean and Cas turn just in time to see the soft smile she sends Sarah's way, who hasn't left Sam or Eileen's side for a minute. “I might have never met Sarah otherwise,” Eileen says, as she laces their fingers together. “For a civilian, she's surprisingly badass.”

Sarah smirks at the surprise on Sam's face. “What? You think we can't have our fun without you, Sam?”

Dean barks out a laugh which he tries to cover with a cough as to not get caught eavesdropping. “Look what's Sammy getting himself into,” he whispers to Cas who just smiles sincerely.

“Happiness, I hope.”

Dean's grin turns soft. “Yeah.” His gaze is directed down to his shoes when he drops Cas' hand, and the insecurity he suddenly emanates evokes the urge in Cas to reach out again. But then he spots something over Dean's shoulder and he doesn't catch what Dean says next. 

“I hope this uhm, _demonstrative_ list of my sexual past doesn't uh... throw you off or something,” Dean worries, but when he lifts his head, he sees Cas already immersed in a reunion hug of his own with Anna. Won't be a problem on that front, then. 

After the first wave of emotional reunion hugs has passed, they decide to take everyone to the Bunker for the time being. It is the most sensible course of action since for one thing, all those people are legally dead until Charlie works her magic, and for the other, the Bunker might just be the one big enough place for such a large group of people.

This decision is met with no protests, so Bunker it is. 

While Sam and Charlie work out a plan how best to transport everyone to Lebanon and designate drivers for each car, Dean and Cas take their chance to discreetly sneak away.  
Cas extends a finger to Dean's forehead and in the blink of an eye, they're in Dean's room in the Bunker. Dean will complain about constipation later, but it will be worth it since they're finally getting laid.

“This should give us a few hours head start before the brigade arrives, whaddaya say?” 

From under lowered lids, Cas inspects him, evaluating the perks of undressing Dean in the blink of an eye with his powers versus banking on the slow, savoring way with his hands. “I say _bed. Now_.” 

Gladly, Dean complies.

***

After a long and sating session in the bed with a very naked Dean, Cas rolls half on top of the human again and draws little unintelligible circles onto his bare chest.

It's thanks to this closeness that Cas notices a change in Dean, some air that's stuck in his lungs and pressed out in a long exhale.

“So, uh,” Dean murmurs. “About what happened earlier...”

Cas lifts his head an inch to catch Dean's eyes with his own. 

“The book,” continues Dean, a little red in the face, which could be attributed to their previous physical activities but Cas knows better. “With the spindle. That kind of sucked man – I mean, that you weren't able to move was terrible of course, but I'm actually talking about that other thing right now, uhm...,” he sighs, deciding to just spell it out. “I didn’t wanna have a curse make me admit my feelings to you. Or the fact that I have no fucking filter during our stupid arguments. I wanted to do that myself, on my own terms.”

Cas spreads out his hand on top of Dean's chest, right where his anti-possession tattoo lies. He doesn't take his eyes off Dean once. “I can forget it happened,” he suggests, voice lowered to a whisper. “You can tell me again, like I'm hearing it for the very first time. Once you're ready.”

Dean nods, slowly, like he's thinking something through. 

“I am ready.”

Cas looks at him, unwavering, full of question and wonder.

“What, you think I sleep with every angel I stab at first sight?” Dean laughs, but it's a quiet thing, still earnest in its carefreeness. “I love you.”

And Cas can't not lean forward to get a taste of that smile.

**Author's Note:**

> everything that still doesn't make sense will be edited later


End file.
